Blues Eyes Goodbyes

Don't get up, I'm leaving anyway.

The desires of the heart call less for love,
and more for flight.
My heart does not beat for you anymore.

Great black wings of ebony feathers,
a hunter's eyes,
and the untamed weather.

The night and moon's companions,
I sit some hours, listening to the earth's malcontent.

We both are unhappy,
with the exploits of men and women.

But perhaps more,
we are disappointed in ourselves.

The knives in the back have become old,
bony remnants of another life.

The colours of life bled through those wounds,
pools of vibrancy left in my final throes.

There is so much hope in the world now,
carnivores at the feast.

When something good dies,
humanity gathers and rejoices,
like lions at the feast.

Ask for so much, and I will give in turn,
but there are things that I do not share.

As the planet does, there are secrets and truths
etched in plain sight, and yet always sought.

Because those who seek do not know how to read,
how to comprehend the understanding I've tried-
and failed to impart.

Perhaps the simplest truth,
I whisper on the wind.

As it brushes past your ears,
someday you might hear it.

"Wake up."
"Wake up."
"Don't get up, I'm already gone."